ROLF: Genesis

“Attaaaack!” The burly man pointed at the opponent with his sword.

“Moraaaaaaaa!”

The sound of galloping horse hooves filled his eardrums. He stared at his enemy with eyes blazed with anger. His spirit was burning, melting into one with his soldiers who fought bravely that day.

“Attaaaack!”

The soldiers of the Mora kingdom ran towards the enemy that was also heading towards them.

A similar number of soldiers made him smile.

“Everything’s going to look fun,” he whispered.

“You must die!”

Voices full of courage continued to echo at the border separating the two kingdoms. Soldiers from the Mora kingdom who rode horses and served as the vanguard drew their swords with a fire burning in their chests.

“Scram you, Devil!” Aras pulled the horse’s saddle and merged into one with his brave soldiers.

Aras continued to attack all the opponents in front of him indiscriminately. “Go you to hell!” he said.

He managed to knock out the opponent with a fast movement. His breath was ragged and ragged. He looked around the shattered surroundings. Suddenly his body swayed and fell off the horse.

Buuughhhhh!

Aras rolled his eyes when he found out that his favorite horse, Marchetti, fell helpless due to a stab from the enemy.

“Marchetti!” he shouted.

His chest heaved as he watched Marchetti close his eyes very quickly. He rose to his feet and pointed his sword upwards while running towards the enemy who had killed his warhorse.

“You deserve to die!” he shouted.

Sreeeeetttttt!

In one slash of the sword, he managed to cut off the head of the tall soldier. The man then turned and looked at the lifeless Marchetti. The fire of anger was burning in his chest.

One by one, the Mora kingdom’s war troops succeed cripple the opponent. Soldiers fell in a matter of minutes.

“Aras!”

Aras felt his adrenaline rising. He turned around and saw the warlord of the Bazmud kingdom, Zucca. Their eyes both convey ingrained emotion.

Juuuhhhh!

Aras spat. His devilish smile appeared as Zucca had lost many soldiers walking towards him with a sword covered in blood. Aras is famous for being agile on the battlefield stepped forward with his chin raised too.

“Zucca,” Aras mumbled softly.

The opponent could still tell through Aras’s lip movements.

Aras stopped when there were only three steps between him and Zucca. Aras mounted a stance and held the sword inherited from his great-grandfather with two hands.

“Looks like you can’t carry that damn sword of yours properly,” said Zucca.

He was also ready with the sword in his right hand.

Aras chuckled while looking down at his opponent. “My sword is too strong to slash your head, so I need to control it a bit so that your head won’t cut off!” said Aras.

“God damn it!”

Aras smiled as he saw Zucca running towards him with a long sword that wasn’t quite as big as his evilly. “Your carcass will be eaten badly by the crows!” he growled.

“We will win!”

The sound of two swords clashing was loud. Aras and Zucca equally mastered swordsmanship to the highest level, namely ‘tenacia’ which means tough.

Zucca pushed back when his sword couldn’t withstand the pressure from Aras carrying Spegnius.

“Spegnius will take you to the afterlife!” Aras growled while chanting the name of his sword.

“Damn it!” Zucca stepped forward again and slashed his sword towards Aras’s neck.

However, Aras managed to dodge by lowering his head. And with lightning-fast movements, Aras turned out and slashed at Zucca’s neck, while the man still had his back to him until Zucca’s head separated from his body.

“Long live the princeeee!”

“Long live Moraaaa!”

“We woooon!”

Shout after shout could be heard ringing in the ears of Aras. He was standing and straightening his body. His breath caught. His vision was still a little blurry after Zucca hit his head. Blood seeped from the tip of his sword. He then stuffed Spegnius into its sheath and looked at Zucca’s body lying helplessly in front of him.

He turned and looked at his remaining soldiers bouncing with joy at defeating the kingdom’s enemy. He looked up at the sky that suddenly looked cloudy. Then Aras walked over and stood about five meters away from the soldiers.

“Luca!” shouted Aras calling for his royal polemareus.

Luca ran towards Aras. Arriving in front of Aras, Luca folded one knee and looked down.

“Starteus is calling me!” he said aloud.

Aras is a war general of the Mora kingdom. He looked at all the soldiers who were now silent await his orders. Aras then looked at Luca.

“You and all the soldiers, go back to Mora,” he said firmly.

Luca nodded in understanding. “Yes, Sir!” he said.

Then he stood up and turned toward the soldiers.

Aras then turned and looked at the corpses lying helplessly on the ground at the border between Mora and Bazmud. A sigh escaped his lips. The sound of the footsteps of Luca and the soldiers leaving the battlefield grew less and less audible.

As usual, after the war was over, Aras would kneel and bow his head. His right hand touched the ground where there were many bloodstains from the people who fought to defend their respective kingdoms.

“There shouldn’t be a need for a war like this,” he muttered slowly.

His eyes stared at his left arm. He felt excruciating pain. The pain crept up to make Aras growl a little. Drops of blood dripped from the upper left arm. Aras realized that Zucca’s sword had injured him.

Aras pulled the front of his robe. Then skillfully, he wrapped the cloth around his upper arm so the bleeding won’t get worse. Aras took a deep breath with his head tilted back.

“May You forgive our sins and the sins of those who have fallen,” he said.

His habit, after the war ended and his side won, Aras would kneel and ask the God of Life. He would pray for forgiveness for all the sins of all those involved in the war.

Aras’s eyes, which were previously closed, suddenly opened when he heard the loud chuckle of granny. He looked ahead, but there was no one there. The son of King Arthur turned out to the right and left. Then, Aras turned back to the front.

“King Arthur’s handsome and cruel son!”

Aras widened his eyes. In front of him stood a magician with a dark blue robe and gray hair. The distance was about six steps from where he kneeled. The granny greeted him in a shrill voice.

Aras stood up and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” asked Aras with a surprised look.

The granny laughed at Aras’s question. “Who am I?” Her face looked smug.

Then she laughed again and made Aras wary. “I am your nightmare, young man!” she answered after her laughter disappeared shortly.